A Rose of any other name is not as sweet
by The-Eternal-Emerald
Summary: After Rose disappears into Pete's world, the Doctor is thrown into despair. Desperate for any way to combat the depression and anger, the doctor resorts to something very out of character. A Secret Diary of a Call Girl crossover with Doctor Who!


---Just an introduction. I do not own either of these shows. So please don't sue me. This idea came to mind partially from a what if daydream I had. So, please take no offense to any inaccuracies, especially on the Secret Diary of a Call Girl end, because I have only seen a few episodes of that show. This takes place some time after second season of Doctor Who with the 10th Doctor. I'm really not sure where this lines up in the Call Girl Timeline... Anyway! Reviews would be GREATLY appreciated, since this is sort of my first one shot. So, enjoy, and don't forget to leave me a review! Thanks!---

She turned her head slightly, looking at the man sitting in her staged bedroom. He was slouching casually in a bright purple armchair, his dirty hi tops resting on one of her perfectly clean glass tables. This was normally not the physical attitude of her customers before play time. He looked completely out of place with her whole apartment, where her whole set up screamed class and luxury, this man looked tattered and tired. There was a sadness in his eyes that she just couldn't ignore, and the last thing he looked like he wanted to be doing was waiting for a shag. He hadn't said much after a courteous hello when he appeared sulking in her doorway, he was however right on time. Belle could appreciate punctuality. When she cleared her throat to begin explaining her 'rules' and 'rates' he simply walked past her, his tired eyes glancing over her frame once as he brushed past her into the apartment. Belle heard a thud on her kitchen table as she was closing the door, and slightly jumpy, she had turned around to see he had already deposited the money in its designated place without her telling him to do so. She walked to the table quietly, picking the money up and flipping through it with the speed of a true professional. By the time she had put it into her freezer for safe keeping he had made his way to the bedroom and had collapsed in the purple chair, gazing out over the city. Which brought her to where she was now. Belle was certainly a woman who could take care of herself, and she really didn't feel the skinny man would hurt her at all, but there was something about him that was putting her on edge.

Belle turned back again, her perfectly manicured red fingernails were nervously toying with her cellphone. She wanted to call Stephanie. Perhaps she had made a mistake... at least she could get some more information out of her about this guy. Belle always liked to have her time with her clients well planned and this was all so sudden. Stephanie had called in this last minute appointment and had been brief in her details, very unlike her. The decision was made, and she hit Stephanie's number on her speed dial, inching out of view down the hallway towards her personal room. She was wearing a pink silk baby-doll, and was actually feeling a bit self conscious with this stranger in her house.

"Hello, Stephanie?"

....

"No, hes here, what'd you say his name was again? John Smith? Nothin special about that, yea?

...

"He paid, its not that. I'm just getting this weird vibe from him, there's something different about him."

....

"No, not gay, I dunno, he seems sad."

...

"Oh shut up, I know, I know, if a client is sad, it is my job to make the client happy. The wig and the pink slip, his only request?"

...

"I'll let you know how it goes then."

With that she closed her flip phone, gripping it tightly within her hand, and inhaled a deep, calming breath, establishing Belle around herself like a shield. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror across from her. She was wearing a very blonde wig that went down to her shoulders. The pink baby-doll was a bit too sweet for her tastes. In her opinion she looked like a pink and yellow nightmare, but hey, to each his own. She then walked out of the hallway, back towards her staged bedroom. She had on a pair of matching pink pumps, her own addition to the ensemble, which clicked on the tile as she passed through her kitchen. There he was, in the same chair, wearing the same somber expression. He wasn't an unattractive man. He was skinny, but toned looking, and his face was handsome, his mouth welcoming. Though it looked like he had forgotten to shave for a few days, a shadow of a beard appearing on his chin and cheeks. What stood out about him the most was his hair, messy and flying in every direction. She already was thinking about how fun it would be to run her hands through that hair. He had taken off his brown overcoat when he first came in, revealing a brown pinstriped suit beneath, an interesting choice when paired with what appeared to be extremely dirty hi top trainers. As she came into view, the man's breath hitched, but the sadness behind his eyes didn't dissipate. If anything, it intensified.

"Ello John," she said stopping a few feet in front of him, standing tall, tossing the fake blonde hair back over her shoulder. "Well, everything checks out, so, why don't we have a bitta fun, yeah?" She stepped forward a bit keeping her arms behind her back, but John didn't move from his spot, his mind miles away, his eyes already drifting back out the window. Belle scoffed and folded her arms, no one ever wasted their time with her like this. She was after all, high class stuff. With frustration threatening to seep into her voice she spoke again, trying to snap John back to attention. "So, the wig, and the specific pink nightie... I'm guessing you're trying to get over someone? Or remember someone? People don't come to me without some kind of fantasy they can't play out in the real world."

John looked up at her and almost smiled, just almost. "You're perceptive for a call girl, did you get your degree at Oxford or something?" he muttered and paused. To Belle it seemed he was trying to keep control of his voice. "I came here hoping to find some sort of closure... I dunno... maybe I'm just trying to find a way to make it hurt a little less today, or for an hour." He hung his head, reaching up long fingers to twist and mess his already out of control hair. Slowly, he chuckled to himself. "This was a bad idea."

Belle softened slightly, unfolding her arms upon seeing the man's distress, her professional instincts kicking in. She had seen situations like this before. It always amazed her, the lasting effect a woman could have on a man. They're fun toys, but they break so easily. The blonde wig itched slightly, and she ignored it, leaning down until she was on her knees and more eye level with the man. He had covered his whole face with his hands, like a child who thought it made them invisible. Her left hand reached out and touched his knee, while her other reached up, and gently tugged his hands from his face. He jumped at the touch and turned to look at her, but didn't move. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "What happened?"

Those eyes of his were boring into her now, dark pools that seemed to have knowledge of the ages within them. They were not the eyes of a man in his thirties, a man who has the world before him, these were the eyes of a world hardened old man. She saw his hand tense on the arm of the purple chair where it had settled, gripping it like a vice. "Shes gone," he sighed. "I lost her." He choked a bit on his next words. "She's dead to this world now, and I can't help... I can't help thinking it was all my fault." In a sudden movement that startled Belle, his long hands were back mussing with his hair again, as if he rubbed his head hard enough a magic genie would fly out and grant him his wish of this lost woman. Belle even thought for a second that she could see tears in his eyes.

"What was her name?" she asked.

"Her name was Rose," he exclaimed the name with pride, the first time she heard his voice well enough to hear the rich tones within it. "She was brave, brilliant, and beautiful..." His hand moved from the chair to touch her cheek. His hand was cool on her face, and Belle was flooded with sympathy. "You look a lot like her." He moved his hand to tug gently, almost playfully on the wig. "With this thing," he squinted his eyes "the illusion is almost complete. That's why I picked you, Hannah." Her eyes widened quickly, and narrowed. Her frame became stiff under his seemingly unrelenting gaze.

"How do you know my real name?" she whispered.

"Oh, there's not much that gets past me," he grinned and winked, revealing a fantastic white smile. "I'm sort of too clever for my own good at times." As he said this, he rose, his hand moving to cup her chin and bring her up with him, and she let him still slightly bewildered. His gaze traveled over her as she stood before him, his smile faded and he began to look like a child who had lost his best friend.

His voice was soft and husky, and she couldn't help but find herself wondering what this man was like in good spirits. Would he be someone she would get along with? Would she have liked him if she hadn't met him at work? He seemed so broken up, and she desperately wanted to ask him more, but something in the back of her head told her it was dangerous to pursue the subject any further. She moved forward and moved her arms around his chest, pulling him into a soft hug, and said something she even less expected next. "I can't be her, you know that right?" He nodded, pulling her away from him. Slowly, he reached up and began to unfasten his tie, pulling it off his neck. Next came the buttons on his shirt. She moved back expectantly, moving towards the bed. When she looked back, there was a different expression on the face of John Smith. His eyes had darkened, and there was a mixture of anger, guilt, and something else unrecognizable within them. How did he change so fast? Belle gulped, her legs gave way underneath her, either that or she tripped over her own feet in these bloody pumps. It was hard for her to decide with him staring at her, unblinking like that. It was enough to make any woman weak in the knees.

"I know that." He stated in a deep, low voice. "I can never have her back. I can never hear her laughter again, or that little noise she makes when I... I miss the smell of her lilac shampoo, the feel her hand in mine. I'll never wake up with her in my arms, I could have never had a life with her. I am a man who has nothing really, when it comes down to it. Everyone leaves me Hannah." The light blue shirt was now completely unbuttoned, and he rather angrily shrugged it off, revealing a taught, rangey frame. His stomach had slight hints of a six pack, and he hand leanly muscled arms. Belle felt the corners of her mouth quirk slightly in approval. The belt around his pants was the next to go, and to be thrown away with unnecessary force. It seemed to Belle that he was trying to escape himself, by ridding himself of these... unique clothes. "I always do the right thing," he chuckled. It was the first time he had changed his solemn expression for more than a few moments, and Belle wished he would smile more. His face lit up, and Belle's eyes fell to his very kissable mouth. "But just for now, just for this one hour, I think I'm going to do something for me... and I don't bloody care if its healthy or the right thing to do or improper for someone of my age. I do so much for so many, and never ask for anything in return. I deserve this. I don't need your approval, I don't care about you, Hannah. You are not Rose."

The noise of his zipper being undone snapped Belle's gaze from his hardened eyes. Brown trousers fell to the ground, and besides his blue boxers, a very naked, rigid man stood before her. She couldn't figure out if it was the light coming in from the window behind him, or what, but he looked like a god to her at that moment. She wanted to get up and scream, scream his presence to the world, but something was stopping her, a lonely god. "But for the next hour..." he grinned again, stepping forward towards the bed. He casually crawled onto it, and moved up the bed slowly and deliberately, staring at Belle with a sort of hunger creeping into his eyes. She hadn't noticed that she had crept to the back of the bed until the headboard hit her head. He reached an arm towards her, and grabbed her by her pink pump, dragging her down the bed towards him with a strength and speed a man as skinny as him should not possess. When he stopped she lay still on the bed, her wig billowed out around her head. Her legs were now straddling him, so close their crotches almost touched. The pink slip had peeled up her frame revealing her flat stomach and a very skimpy pink thong underneath. "I'm going to call you Rose. Rose Tyler."

Belle had no time to respond. His lips crashed down on hers immediately. The kiss was rough, his teeth hit hers at least a few times, his tongue was prodding her mouth desperately, as if he could find his lost love within her fillings. Belle gasped for air when he finally released her lips. Before she could say anything he crushed his lips against hers again with bruising force, his hands were making their way slowly up her legs. His touch was feather light with his fingers, the total opposite of his violent mouth. Belle didn't know what to make of this strange sad man, she never really liked it rough like this. She liked to be the one in control, the one with the power. He was the one paying her to do things to HIM after all. With this man, she felt powerless, and yet she was not afraid. Something about him told her he would not hurt her. He seemed to need the comfort of flesh on flesh, and that was something that Belle understood very well. Fingers began tracing the thong straps on her hips and she arched up slightly causing her breasts to brush across his chest as he leaned over her. He moaned into her mouth when he felt the silken fabric touch him. She reached her hands up almost timidly, and ran her hands through his dark messy hair. When she did this his mouth left hers with a growl. There was a small tearing noise, and it actually took Belle a moment to realize he had ripped the thong off by its poorly designed thin straps. Oh well, it didn't really cover much anyway. He moved his head down her body, kissing here and there. He regret not telling the escort service to make sure she wore lilac perfume, and silently cursed his timelord senses. This woman tasted like cheap champagne and cigarettes. Rose tasted much better. He sniffed as he got closer to her warm core, smelling this woman's most intimate scent. Rose smelled sweet, this woman smelled salty. His tongue danced along his teeth, she wouldn't taste like Rose down there either, and even his curiosity and oral fixation couldn't get him to move his head between her legs. He looked up, her eyes met his. "Something wrong?" she gasped, still trying to catch her breath from his attack on her lips. "John?"

He did not respond, he simply sat up straight, a sweat was building on his chest, and he looked unsatisfied. "Can you do me a favor, love?" An eyebrow quirked up on his face making him look quite attractive. Inquisitive was a good look for him.

"Mmm, well John, favors are my specialty," she purred sitting up so that their lips were close again. This client had, had way too much control until this moment, and she planned on changing that fast. Her hands trailed down to his crotch to find that he was only semi hard. She was surprised. Usually by this point a man would be desperately trying to think of ways to prolong the time before he lost control of himself. "To start with, I can fix this up for you." John was about to answer when it was her who cut him off this time by pushing him back onto the bed, gently. He allowed this, though he did not return her smile. She moved her head down and licked at John's balls.

He groaned loudly. "That's nice, but, please, can you call me... your doctor?"

"Doctor Who?" she asked. "Oh why didn't you say you wanted me to be your naughty nurse?" Her tongue was making its way up his cock, and it was beginning to stiffen and raise itself.

"Not that kind of Doctor," he moaned out of annoyance, fisting a pillow with his hand. "Just, call me your doctor."

"Mmm OK Doctor," Belle went back to licking his cock. "My Doctor." When she uttered those words it was like she said a secret password or something, because his cock immediately sprang to attention. "Oh Doctor, its so big," she breathed, and for once she actually meant it. Her glossy lips sank over his length and she heard him pull in air sharply on the bed. She began to bob up and down on his cock with an expert rhythm. Her tongue occasionally teasing the tip of his cock. A hand shot down, roughly landing on her head, grasping at the blonde wig on her head. She felt it move and knew he did as well, because he repositioned it, and moved his hand away to simply grasp at the bedsheets. Despite her professionalism, Belle felt his pain almost overwhelming her. A dense presence that hung in the air around them, like heat on a humid day. She could also feel herself becoming wet. She scoffed at herself mentally, and decided the explanation was because she had never been with someone like this before, so complete and yet so broken. Such a mystery and yet so easy to read. Plus, it wasn't like she didn't enjoy her job. Belle increased her tempo on John's cock, taking it deeper into her mouth than she had before. Her free hand was working its way up his thigh slowly, dragging her perfect red nails lightly over his skin, almost as lightly as he had touched her. His legs twitched under her ministrations, his cock twitched in her mouth. Pre-cum was leaking out of it. She removed her mouth and kissed the top of his cock, lazily running her tongue through the leaked liquid, running it down his length. He was panting hard, she glanced up at him to see his jaw was clenched shut, a hand was covering his eyes. His expression was pained. As if he sensed her mental hesitation upon glancing at his face, he moaned and opened one of his eyes. "Don't stop... please."

Belle hesitated. The way he looked, it looked as if her actions were causing him pain, and why shouldn't they? Who in their right mind tries to relive intimate moments with their dead girlfriend with a total stranger. The desired effect would never be achieved. But Belle was the best, the absolute best. If anyone could help him, she decided, it was her. She continued, laying little kisses on his cock, teasing his balls before she assaulted him again with her mouth. She used her tongue to roll her Rrrs around his cock, deep throating him to the best of her ability. Her hands clawed at his abs and legs, as she felt him gradually begin to tense under her. She varied her pace until she felt his cock shudder with an almost inhuman force in her mouth. He came with a cry, screaming something in some language she did not understand. It sounded old and beautiful, maybe Latin? Belle lapped and sucked up his cum with an enthusiasm she really never had. This man tasted so complex, so many flavors competing for dominance, like no one she had ever been with before. As his body relaxed under her, she wiped her mouth off on her hand dantilly and sat up. John's hands still covered his eyes, sweat rolled off his brow. It was the first time that Belle thought the rest of him matched his just sexed hair style. He looked cute. She made her way up the bed and sat down next to his head, leaning on the headboard and smiling, licking the last remnants of him from her lips. "See, Doctor? I told you I could fix it," she crooned. He didn't move, or make any movement to respond. Worried, she sighed and leaned closer to his face, staring at the dexterous hands that covered those powerful eyes when she noticed something. A small tear had escaped from below one of his pinky fingers, and she couldn't help herself from leaning down and gently kissing his forehead. "Doctor?"

He rolled over quicker than she could blink and he had her pinned between himself and the headboard. There was something almost animalistic about the way he moved. Belle bit her lower lip sexily, being sure to show a bit of her small pink tongue in the process. "Oh Doctor," she moaned sultrily. "What are you gonna do now?" His response was not verbal, and even if Belle wanted to talk more, she didn't think she would have been able to with those dark eyes of his trying to devour her. He slowly moved a hand down her body, touching every curve as it went. It stopped at the hem of the silken pink slip, and very suddenly grabbed it in a fist. Belle gasped in surprise and he smirked, slowly bringing the slip up and over her head, tossing it to the side. His hand returned to its caging position. John stared down at her body hungrily, taking in the sight of her bare stomach and breasts. He kissed her then, it wasn't as rough as it was before, but it certainly had a desperation to it. She felt his hands moving down her shoulders, tracing the line of her collar bone. His touch was electric, igniting a feeling between her legs. Her breasts were what his hands explored next, kneading, twisting, and pinching, his assault felt endless. John ended the kiss, letting her come up for air. Belle gasped for oxygen, he had moved down and gently nipped her collar bone. A moan escaped her when his hands traveled down to her hips, pulling her crotch to his with great force. He was hard again, certainly the best recovery time Belle had seen in all her years as a professional. Just what kind of man was he? She was brought back to attention by him kissing his way up her neck. She found herself moaning again, her head feeling fuzzy with lust. "Doctor," she gasped. "Oh, Doctor, please!" She found his lips with hers, bringing him into her own desperate, lust filled kiss, her hands crushing his head to hers.

No further explanation was needed for the man in her bed. He knew what she was asking, he knew what he wanted. He thanked Rassalion they wanted the same thing, because right now, in this moment, it would not have mattered much to him at this point if she wanted it or not. This demented act was his last desperate attempt at not loosing it completely, at not loosing her completely. His hands dug into her hips as he thrust her legs open wider. With a growl he found her opening and entered it in a single thrust. Belle yelped in surprise, desperately trying to adjust to his large girth. He was bigger than pretty much every guy she had been with. Oh he was a treat this one, he was going to have to become a regular. She would have no problem kissing his wounds better more often. This was too good. He gave an experimental thrust, and the strength in it surprised Belle, as she felt herself lifted from the bed, and entirely pinned against the oversized gaudy headboard. He gave her a sloppy, rough kiss and began to thrust. His pace was relentless, so fast and desperate, she wondered how long he could keep it up. He broke off the kiss, gasping against her neck, plastering his body as best he could against hers so he could touch every part possible. Flesh on flesh. It was impossible for Belle to do much besides moan and enjoy the 'ride,' his pace and ferocity allowed for little else. And he did seem to like it, the louder her moans were, the harder he began to thrust. Her hands found their way around his back, and she clung onto him for dear life as he banged her into the headboard. The dense energy around them was tensing, building, changing... or was it his energy that was changing?

Pretty soon Belle wasn't wondering how long he could keep this up, but rather how long she could? She was loosing herself in this, this man, this overwhelming feeling he emanated of power, sadness, and a deep rage. She was loosing track of time, quite unprofessional, but she really didn't give a damn at the moment. He slowed his pace, but still held her weight up against the headboard. He eventually stopped when he had her pressed up against the headboard, seated deep inside her. Belle squirmed and moaned her protest, trying to get him to start moving again, but then his eyes caught hers and as corny as it seems, to Belle it felt like time stopped. He reached up a hand from its grip on her upper leg and smoothed it down her cheek. His thumb traced her lips, and it was only then that she noticed the wetness on her neck where he had burrowed his head, and how it matched the tear stains that were in the corners of his eyes. She frowned and opened her mouth to ask him if he really was OK when he shook his head silently, and quickly brought his hand over to cover her mouth. Belle tensed against this, but there was no violence in his body language. Just an overall resignation, a deep despair. "I need you to say what I tell you to say now, Hannah," he whispered. "No talking besides that, understand?" Confused, she nodded slowly, and he brought his hand away from her mouth and gave her a solemn smile.

He began his pace again, inhumanly fast and powerful. He grunted and adjusted the angle he was entering her, giving another experimental thrust before returning to his ferocious thrusting. Belle was confused, but then realized he had done it for her, with each thrust now, his hips grazed her clit, sending a shock through her each time. She felt her muscles coiling, winding up like a spring. He seemed to know exactly which buttons of hers were the right ones to push. Belle gasped when he began to nibble on one of her ears, but stopped herself from doing it again out of fear of him stopping for a second time. Suddenly she heard his voice in her ear. "Say you're mine," he rumbled against her earlobe.

"I'm yours, Doctor," she panted in her most sultry voice. He chuckled against her and moved so he could see her face as he thrust into her.

"Tell me that I did it, tell me that I closed the gap," he grunted. "Tell me we're safe now."

"You did it, Doctor, you closed the gap!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking from the force of him against her. "We're safe now... my Doctor... you saved me."

This statement caused an unexpected reaction, he pounded a fist into the headboard, so hard Belle wondered if it would have a dent or crack... he let out a wail that shook her to her very soul, and then his hands were on her, touching, exploring, as if memorizing every part of her. He held her to him as if he was trying to merge his flesh with hers permanently, grasping her by the ass, he quickened his pace.

"Tell me that now we can be together, that now nothing stands between us and forever," he exclaimed, tears once again beginning to fill his eyes. His sadness overwhelming her, she felt tears within her own... either that or it was from the fact that she was having her brains thoroughly fucked out.

"We're safe," she repeated. "We can be together now," her hand shakily reached up to caress his cheek. "Doctor, there is nothing that can stand between us. We can be together..." she paused, gasping, feeling herself reaching her own limit. She couldn't speak, couldn't find the words, she was simply lost in this feeling of oncoming completion, like nothing else mattered but their bodies intertwined and the feeling of her tensing ever more around his big cock. John growled, he must have sensed how close she was, because he feverently reached down and began massaging her clit in his fingers. It was all too much for Belle and she let out a scream as she came, grasping his cock tighter than she thought she could, she rode out the waves of the orgasm that threatened to turn her mind to mush. But she was a professional, and there was still the client to look after. She opened her eyes again to see him politely waiting for something. "Forever," she stated between pants. "Doctor, forever." His eyes softened, and he ran a hand through the blonde wig, a tear escaping his left eye.

"Oh Rose," he moaned painfully, as if he was being stabbed. He began to move against her again, building himself up to the same frantic pace as before. "Rose, Rose, Rose, ROSE! Please, please tell me you're OK"

"I'm OK, Doctor."

"Rose, tell me you're here."

"I'm here, Doctor, I'm here."

"Tell me you want me,"

"I want you, Doctor."

"Again," he moaned against her, bringing a hand up, cupping her cheek, caressing her temple.

"I want you, I need you so bad." His tears were falling freely now, his teeth grit together as he twitched violently within her. He was getting close. She suddenly felt a sharp pain on the side of her head and for a brief moment she saw the oddest vision flash before her eyes. A blonde woman, who looked as if she could be her twin and John, hugging, running, kissing each other. Then there were these large metal men, and these other monsters of indescribable horror. Another flash, another vision. She cried out despite herself. There were levers, a tunnel, no a portal... John and his Rose holding on for dear life, and then... she was gone. And he was alone. Belle opened her eyes and felt tears of her own running down her face. Upon feeling the first one touch his hand, he quickly removed it, and flashed her a sharp look of embarrassment.

"Tell me you love me, and that we'll always be together, Rose," he howled against her. She paused and his face grew desperate, sweat rolling down his face, mixing with his tears. "Please."

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you," she said it louder this time. He was thrusting her into the headboard so hardly she thought he was going to smash her hip bone. "I love you," she cried. "I love you and we'll be together always... Rose and her Doctor."

"Gah... oh ROSE" he choked on her name as he came, she could feel his tears and sweat hot against her skin. He thrust himself deep inside of her and emptied himself, emptied his sadness, his guilt, his sins. Belle winced as she felt his nails dig into her ass, but she held him tight. That would leave a mark tomorrow. She held him like a mother holds a child who is scared of the night, scared of whats to come. They stayed like that for a moment, or maybe more, it was hard to tell time around this man. He panted against her, and she moved her hand to caress his cheek again, but he brought a hand of his own up and stopped her. He slowly shook his head, and released his grasp on her, pulling out finally, leaving Belle feeling cold and empty, and significantly less fantastic. He moved to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over, placing them softly on the ground. He sad there unmoving, his head hanging, his hands tightly grasping his knees. Belle broke the silence finally, moving to the side table to grab her handy pack of post coital cigarettes.

"That was quite a shag," she told him. "Rose, did you ever fuck her like that?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Well, I bet she would'a liked it, bloody unbelievable that was." She lit up the cigarette with a pink Bic lighter, blowing the smoke out of her mouth lazily. "You don't mind do you?"

He shook his head again and stood up. "No, its your flat." John's expression was once again depressed, as if he had only been able to stop himself from drowning in it for that short amount of time. He moved again,standing, he began to pick up his discarded clothing. Belle watched him in silence, smoking her cigarette with her legs crossed. She had pulled the pink slip back over herself, but apart from that she was still naked. She could still smell his unique scent on her skin.

"She's really gone, isn't she? Rose?"

"Yes, she is," he replied. The elastic of his underwear snapped as he pulled them snug around his hips. He then began to pull on his pants.

"You know," she faltered. This was very unprofessional. "Uh, you busy? You could come with me... grab a bite. I don't have another appointment for the rest of the day.

John genuinely laughed at this, not in a mocking way though. His laughter was rich, as though she was listening to the laughter of time passing her by. "What?" she asked, confused.

"Oh its nothing, really, its just that..." he laughed. "I'm usually the one telling someone to come with me. I'm sorry Hannah, I really am, but I've got to go." He was now buttoning his shirt, another thing he seemed to do with an inhuman quickness.

"Where ya going?" she quizzed.

"Somewhere... sometime you cannot follow," he was now shaking out his pinstripe jacket, and shrugging it over his shoulders. The tie he discarded earlier was shoved into his pocket.

"What really happened to Rose Tyler?" she proclaimed. "When you and I were together, I saw this.... vision... in my mind... this woman. She really did look like me... and there were all these fantastical, scary monsters... and there was you."

John who was now picking up his shoes dropped them in surprise and turned to look at Belle. "You weren't supposed to see that. Just try to forget it. You just got caught up in the crazy rantings of a traveling man, that's all." He quickly picked up his shoes and sat down once again in the purple chair. Socks went on first, hastily. Next came the incredibly dirty hi top trainers. While he was struggling with them, she could not help but prod further.

"She was sucked up into that... tunnel thing, wasn't she?" Belle said. She knew she didn't even have to pose it as a question to him. they both knew it now to be fact. "And you never got to tell her..."

"Stop it," he hissed. "I don't need a call girl telling me what I already know." He turned and glared at her, such a glare that Belle wanted to shrink back into the headboard and disappear. It was amazing how quickly his face could change. "There's no changing your past, Hannah. Believe me, I know that better than anyone."

She sighed, and nervously ran a hand through the blonde wig, staring at him from between the individual strands that fell in front of her face. He had both trainers on now, and stood, dusting himself off, running a hand through his 'I've just been sexed hair, messing it all the more. Belle frowned, she felt like something amazing was going to disappear from her life forever, and she worried suddenly if one day she would forget his face. John smiled at her from across the room. He sauntered over to his large overcoat, unfolded it, and threw it on. There was a rustling noise within it as he began to search his pockets for something, producing a small metal pen-thing which he kept in hand.

"You'll want to make another appointment?" she assumed. "I'm a busy girl but for you, I think I can pencil you in on..."

"No," he asserted. "No, I don't think that will be a good idea." His eyes caught hers and held them. "No, I think this is the last time you'll be seein' ol' John Smith around here, Hannah." He walked over to her kitchen out of view and she heard an odd noise. Like something out of an alien horror movie, like a ray gun. An odd blue light flashed in her kitchen, and John reappeared around the corner, leaning on the doorway. The perfect picture, Belle thought, of a lonely god.

"I use the name Belle, so people don't realize who I am... on both ends," Belle mused. "Belle and Hannah, their worlds can never cross, soo...."

He grinned, god, what a smile that man had. "I know, smart girl you are Hannah. You'll go far, I can tell." He winked at her again, slipping the odd metal pen into his breast pocket. "Oh, and by the way, I fixed your leaky sink, the dripping was driving me mad while we were in the middle of our business."

"How did you hear..." she gasped, and narrowed her eyes. "You interrupted me before, you didn't let me finish."

"Oh, apologies," he sighed. "Please, continue.

"I was saying, Belle and Hannah's worlds can never cross... so I understand now... why you used the name John Smith... why you're this Doctor."

"What?"

"I know John Smith is not your real name..." she hollered a bit louder than she should have. Belle lowered her voice, her emotions getting the best of her. "Do you even have a name? Who are you?"

He smiled at her then, standing upright, no longer leaning on the doorway. Slowly, he was backing up, making his way for the front door. "I wish you luck, Hannah. You did a brilliant job here, and I thank you for allowing me to burden you for a while."

"But..."

"I think that wig suits you, you should consider a hairstyle change. I'm betting you'll get even more business." One final grin, one final wink, and he was gone. She heard her front door opening and shutting and that was that.

Belle never entertained John Smith again. But Hannah often played over that strange afternoon in her mind, never quite understanding what took place. She sat there in the rumpled satin sheets of her stage bed, utterly perplexed for fifteen minutes. Suddenly, her phone rang and she snapped to attention, grabbing it from the bedside table, and another cigarette all in one swoop of her hand. The caller ID was blinking Stephanie, and Belle swallowed hard, composing herself.

"Hello?"

....

"Oh I'm sorry. Wait, its what time?"

....

"Sorry, I didn't know two hours have gone by... I guess time flies when you're having fun."

.....

"How was he? Dunno, he was different. Like no one I've ever been with, and like no one I'll ever be with."

.....

"No, he isn't going to be a regular... something tells me he was just a traveler passing through, on his way to bigger and better things."

.....

"Can you cancel my other three appointments for today? Tell them I'm sick or something. I really need to be with my thoughts right now."

....

"Thanks Stephanie. What would I do without you?

.....

"Haha, yeah, I'd have to get a real job. I'll talk to ya later." She closed the flip phone and stretched out on the bed, not in any hurry to move. The wig had begun to itch her head again and she hadn't even noticed. Distracted, she lit up another cigarette, and began pulling the pins out of her hair which held her wig in place. Eventually, two cigarettes later, she managed to pull it from her head. It lay in her hand, looking like someone had just scalped a barbie. She studied it, and tried to hold onto the image of the girl who looked so much like her and had hair just like this. A girl who traveled with a man she called "her doctor"... well... not anymore. Suddenly outside she heard an odd noise, like that of the most powerful engine she had ever heard. Like four locomotives going into battle together, like if a airplane, a space ship, and Nicola Tesla had a baby and this noise was it. Startled, Belle ran to her window and looked out, but saw nothing of particular interest. She sighed and walked back to her kitchen to run some water for a pot of tea. That would calm her mind. She paused in front of the sink before she turned it on. It was no longer leaking. She smiled and murmured a name; "Rose."

End.

Please, I could really use some helpful reviews!!! Thanks for reading!


End file.
